Revolution 420
by Pattie Anne Boyd
Summary: Born English, raised American; the daughter of a certain Beatle finds out the truth about her own self from whom she thought were her parents. Her teenage years soon take a big turn as she lets her father's old music and ways of the 60s to influence her on how she deals with her own life and the American government. Present day. Rather dark. Not ATU, but similar to it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I thought of this in the shower... Here's a SHORT prologue to a story about a girl who finds out she's the daughter of Paul McCartney and stuff, and then as she gets older, she becomes an activist, and grows to kind of hate the American government. She allows Paul's music and ways back in the 60s to influence her, so she ends up getting into drugs. Just a bit of an experiment... If you don't want to read a story that's A) really dark at points, and B) does not involve a Beatle falling in love with a girl, then don't read this? **

**However, it does have a lot of Paul and Ringo in it. A lot of deep stuff. She'll probably be very intrigued by her father's time as a member of the Beatles and whatnot, so it's still a Beatles fanfic. Just not centered around the a Beatle?**

**Well, please please PLEASE read and review. I need feedback, and I want to know if this story is worth continuing. Thanks!**

**Rated T: Drugs, sex, teens doing stupid stuff.**

******DISCLAIMER: I (sadly) do not own the Beatles. I don't own the government-ish? Um don't attack me or anything I'm innocent I don't own anything but my OCs have a nice day. Or anyone/anything associated with them.**

**Macy's POV**

**Prologue**

I stood, gripping my shirt as the guard pulled me out of the cell. I stumbled through the hall; my vision was blurred from both my tears and whatever the fuck I was already on. I almost fell multiple times, but thankfully the officer helped me up the entire time. My hands were still cuffed together behind my back, the handcuffs surely leaving red rings on my wrists from my sweaty skin rubbing up against the metal constantly. My head pounded and I wasn't sure why. I couldn't reach up there to check if it were bleeding, but it felt chilly; the air cooling it in one spot, which I assumed was bloody.

Why I was being pulled out of the cell was a question I just couldn't answer. I was scared of what was to come; I could be released, or put into prison. I wouldn't even try to defend myself in court or anything—I had broken the law twice right in front of them, and at the same time. I suppose I could go to court and say that I was English, so they couldn't do anything about it, but they would only send me to England, and I would end up starting a record there. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked the guard as we walked along the hall. I tried to look back at him, but it was too far of a turn. Sighing, I looked forward and focused on the placement of my feet on the floor.

"Don't worry about it," The man said, tightening his grip on my arm.

"Well how long have I been here?"

"A few hours," He responded to me as he pushed me out into a room and shut the door behind me.

The room was bright and white and noisy. I squeezed my eyes shut as the light began to burn them. I let out a small shriek, the unpleasant sounds phones ringing and people talking were loud, paining my ears greatly. I let myself fall to the ground. I heard different reactions to my entrance; people probably talking about how much of a mess I was, or shocked that it was me. One person kept on trying to talk to me. However, I blocked the voices out in time to stop them from echoing in my empty skull. My senses were too amplified. I could smell all the different types of coffee in the room, and all the food for whatever meal the officers were eating. I smelled something familiar as well; I knew my friends were there, but they were all back in the cell. I hadn't smelled it in a long time, but it didn't matter. It almost smelled like home. The corners of my lips twitched up into a smile as I took a long sniff of whatever I smelled.

"MACY. LEE. MCCARTNEY." My eyes shot open and I looked up to see my father standing there, his arms crossed. He was the man who had been speaking to me ever since I was pushed in. The home-like smell that I had smelled earlier was him. But what really got my attention was that for the first time ever, he called me by his own last name instead of my adopted parents' last name. I let it sink in a bit, and I bowed my head and closed my eyes again. He labeled me by what I really was, and I wasn't sure if I was proud or not about representing that name.


	2. Sophia

**A/N: Hello, lovelies. I am back with a short first chapter to introduce this story. I've had horrible writer's block for a while now, and this is the only idea I had. But now that I have a first chapter set out there, I'll have something set as a good base for me so I can write more easily. Expect chapter two soon!**

**Rated T: Drugs, sex, teens doing stupid stuff.**

**DISCLAIMER: I (sadly) do not own the Beatles. I don't own the government-ish? Um don't attack me or anything I'm innocent I don't own anything but my OCs have a nice day. Or anyone/anything associated with them.**

**Macy's POV**

**Sophia**

It had been four months. Four months since the accident. Four months since the loss of my best friend. Some would say I was improving; as days went on, I cried less and less and smiled more and more. But in my eyes, things were definitely getting worse. It wasn't long before loneliness had overcome me. My best friend, Sophia, was gone, and I was lost and alone without her. Sure, I had other friends, too. But none of them were as close to me as Sophia was.

Sophia's accident happened in January, and the news of it was everywhere. She had just gotten her license that day and was on her way home from work. She noticed that the light for her to check her engine was on, so she pulled over to the side and put her blinkers on as she checked it. But then there was a drunken man in a pick up truck driving towards her, who didn't notice her blinkers, and slammed into the back of her car while she was in front of it with a flash light. The impact of the two vehicles killed the man, and Sophia was ran over by both of them. And since then, the family of the man who hit her was trying to sue Sophia's family, despite the fact that the accident was the other man's fault.

The only thing that was really getting me through my loss was the Beatles. Paul McCartney and John Lennon's later stuff specifically. I had always been a big fan of the Beatles, ever since I was a little girl. But as I entered high school, I decided it wasn't as cool to like them, and listened to them a lot less (openly, at least). But since the accident, I found myself listening to songs like 'Let It Be', 'Here Today', and 'Julia' constantly. It wasn't long before my love of the Beatles came right back. In times where I felt really low, I'd listen to the Beatles and find my mood almost instantly uplifted. It saved me from a lot of darker things, actually.

Luckily for me, my mom had found us tickets to see Paul McCartney on the 28th of May, which also happened to be my 16th birthday. The seats she got weren't really all that good, but it didn't really matter to me. If I was going to be spending my Sweet 16 without Sophia, then I would definitely spend it seeing one of my heroes perform live. And I had a good feeling that Sophia was just as excited for me as I was for the concert.

Just a week before the concert, I had been lying in bed and strumming my ukulele when my mother came into my room and asked to sit down next to me. I pulled my legs up a bit to make some room for her, and she sat right down next to me. Sighing, she placed a hand on one of my knees and looked at me with disappointment. "Macy, honey, we can't go to the concert."

My jaw dropped and I sat up straight, shaking my mother's hand off my knee. "We _what_?!' What do you _mean_ we can't go to the concert?!"

"Something came up," my mother shrugged and let her eyes fall to the ground.

"What event could possibly be bigger than this concert, mom?" I stood up and walked to the middle of the room, turning to look at her after a moment with tears in my eyes. "Mom, you promised you would take me! It's my Sweet 16! You can't do this to me, mom! You absolutely can't!" I wiped tears from my cheeks and glared at her. "Why are you letting this happen? What is more important, mom?"

"Your father," my mother's tone was very low and careful. "He wants to see you for your 16th birthday."

"Well, _fuck_ him, ma!" I snapped and glared at her and breathed heavily, silencing her with my eyes before she could scold me for my language. "He means absolutely nothing to me! He left us when I was only five, so why the hell would he want to start caring now when I turn sixteen?"

"Well," my mother swallowed slowly, "I think it's about custody over you."

I widened my eyes. "What?" I felt my heart sink in my chest. "Why would he want me _now_?"

"Well, I guess he has a wife and a little girl now, and he wants you to be his now that he's capable of taking care of you."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to leave you. So it sucks to be him. Because I'm not going with him," I dried my face off with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and then crossed my arms, looking down at the ground.

"Well, we need to at least give the option to the both of you to think through together, alright?" I didn't respond to my mom, so she simply stood up and walked over to me, planting a kiss to my head. "I'm sorry, honey. Now, get some rest. You have school tomorrow." She squeezed my shoulder and then headed out of my room, shutting the door behind me.

I looked up at a picture of Sophia and I at my desk as another tear rolled down my cheek. I opened my mouth to say something to her, but then closed it and returned to my bed, picking up my ukulele again and strumming along to Something as I stared up at my ceiling for what seemed like hours.

**A/N: Reviews please!**


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